general category

You became mine after a co-worker at Bloomingdale’s found you stuck on a roof as a kitten. Always the adventurer, even as a little guy. They knew I was looking for a cat and asked me if I wanted you. You were such a cute little squirly guy, how could I say no?

I brought you back to my studio apartment- too small for a cat with such a big personality but I tried to make it work. You were never happy as an indoor cat for those 3 or 4 years- you let me know with savage attacks and attempted (and sometimes successful) escapes by way of pushing out the screens of our second-story apartment windows. You followed me around constantly, even into the shower where you would stand at the back of the tub, squinting while the water hit your face. You would threaten to knock over lamps when you wanted food and I was asleep, yet somehow you never actually did. You would also wake me up by running full speed over my body, or licking my face. You liked to eat everything. Not remotely picky and I appreciated that.

You became a much more happy and well-adjusted cat after I moved to Highland Park and was able to let you outside. After your first surgery your voice changed- I also loved your throaty vocalizations and gulps and burps. Weirdo. There was a brief time when Olaf the Grey entered the scene, and you weren’t stoked about that but somehow made it work.

You transitioned from living with just me, to living with my husband- from the beautiful beginning to the destructive and heartbreaking end. So many days filled with tears and you were my only comfort.

Friendly at the weirdest moments, and lashing out at even weirder moments, you made me feel like I was in a long-term dysfunctional relationship for 11 years, but I loved you and couldn’t imagine anyone else putting up with you. I made a deal with my ex to get rid of you, but I never could. And you lasted longer than he did.

In more recent history, you disappeared for 6 months and then were found by a stranger who called my number that was etched on your ID tag. I picked you up and that whole time you were lost, you were no more than 1/4 mile away from me. Long after I thought you were dead and gone you were found! That seemed like some kind of miracle. You stayed indoors to recuperate and didn’t seem to mind so much this time around. After you healed up you were back to outdoors, and being my part time gardening companion, and guard cat.

The night before you were attacked you meowed at the door and I let you come inside and sleep beside me on the sofa. Not something I usually do but you seemed to want to be inside, and I just wanted your companionship. You stayed curled up with me for several hours. I will try to remember you like that- sweet and sleepy beside me.

You were a fighter, but unfortunately the coyotes were bigger than you. You gave them a run for their money but they did too much damage to you, old man. I got to see you go and was able to try to comfort you as you drifted away- instead of wondering if you might reappear in my life again 6 months down the road. I have had loss in my life but have never gotten to say goodbye to someone or something dying in front of me, or had to make a decision to let someone go.

I forgot to mention that I participated in an advertorial feature in Vogue UK, May 2013 which should be hitting newsstands about now! Blink and you might miss it, but I am very happy with the curation of it and was pleased to be asked. Thanks to my talented friend Cara for quickly re-shooting it for me and making me look good! See #5!!

So let me preface this post by saying that I’m not typically a perfume person. Smells that I like include: patchouli; slightly dirty hair; freshly cut wood; coffee; dirt; citrus; anise; and other very earthy / pure smells.

A few months ago I tried “Hunter” by MCMC at Broome Street General Store (one of my new favorites) in Silverlake and was surprised by how much I liked it. It smells like bourbon vanilla, tobacco, musk, balsam fir. It is just the right blend of masculine and feminine for me. I would maybe even wear it with a little patchouli, but haven’t tried it yet. Anyway, I finally took the plunge and bought it, after several times of going in to do a sample-and-wear-around test. MCMC’s perfumes are perfect for people who don’t want anything too perfume-y or powerful.

You have to know the rules of good taste to have bad taste. With good good taste, you just know the rules. You like something not because its worth money, but because you know its value, and you dont care if anyone else knows it. You pull it off seamlessly without looking down on anybody.

Good bad taste is celebrating something without thinking youre better than it. You think its so amazing, and you could have never even thought it up. But the people who have [this thing] have it without irony. And so youre stupefied by it and you have to respect it because it is so peculiar and so weird and much crazier than you could ever think, but those other people think theyre normal.

Bad bad taste is condescending, making fun of others. An old plastic pink flamingo on a lawn that two older people have had forever is just good taste. But a plastic pink flamingo on a yuppies front lawn is bad bad taste.
Its not even the originalits mass produced, and theyre way too late on the joke.

So thats the difference for me: if youre celebrating something or youre looking down on something.

Went to this event last weekend at a motel (oh wait, I mean “Inn”) near my house for Pacific Standard Time. This is a photo from one of the many interactive installations in various rooms at the motel- this installation was a recreation of the LAFMS performance Pyramid Headphones (1976).